So think again about that lightbulb that Gates couldn't be troubled to screw in. "The electric light is pure information," says McLuhan; "it is a medium without a message, as it were, unless it is used to spell out some verbal ad or name." The sheer dissipation of the lightbulb, its prodigal display of luminescence, its irreversible expenditure of itself in heat: this is a delirium of pure information. You could stare at that one bulb for hours, in a psychedelic trance. Of course someone will always try to use the lightbulb, to get some reading done, to sell some product, or to spell out some illustrious name. But the Second Law of Thermodynamics assures us that information cannot ever entirely be put to work. The medium is more than the sum of its messages and uses. Information is ecstatic, before it is communicative. It will be convulsive, or not at all.

Dvorak's favorite leisure time activity was to listen to trains.

I AM BIG BOY CLEVELAND.

If you listen to that one quill solo I recorded on the Gennett label and
on that piece by "John Fahey" called the Singing Bridge of Memphis
Tennessee---if you can listen to that music and not know that I am Pan,
that I am Krishna, then you should go and get psychoanalyzed as quickly
as possible.

I AM EVERYWHERE.

I remove the veil.

Forbidden voices speak through me.  Voices indecent, full of shame, are clarified
and transfigured.  For me seeing, hearing, feeling are miraculous events.

Nothing is ordinary.

No matter where you are, near or far daytime or nighttime, I am there.
I make everything holy.  You shall become what I am.  You already are, in fact.
You shall be the sun, the moon and the stars.  Come and look for me. You shall find me.
I am nearer than you think.  Come out and look for me.  I will meet you at the door.
And you will find that the door enters the sun and that you are the sun just as I am
because you and I are not two but one, and we always have been.

This will never change.  Never.  I give you my word.

Unfortunately, some people like Greil Marcus, cannot handle all of my amplitude,
although clearly YOU can.  This is sad because some writers like Marcus do notice
things that nobody else sees. And they become determined to write about such things and they get confused.  They short out.

Poor Greil is trying to poeticize the dialectic by tossing around a few antinomies.

But he bloops.  He must not have read Kant.

Now, before we go any further, let us note that this collection is a very bloody and a very nasty
compilation.  Let us make a body count of all the people who get killed in this anthology of folk music.
Twenty people are killed or commit suicide on the domestic scene, and 1,513 people died when
the Titanic sank.  If we add to that the 15 million people killed in WWI an event mentioned
by Blind Lemon Jefferson and Cannon’s Jug Stompers we get a total 15,001,533 deceased.
If we average this figure out among the 84 selections, we get 178,587.67 people killed per song
in this collection!

Miami-based Latin flight capital, hit-and-run hedge funds, a handful of early dedicated-country funds

'cut' with lemon juice and tarragon to mitigate the heftiness of the duck fat

he booked a humorist and psychotherapist from Indiana to address a group from International Aero Engines, an airplane engine consortium based in

Russia has not seen a magician of such capacities. In 1982 he made a plane surrounded by a human chain to disappear

in the wooded environs of Dungarpur, patience rewards bird watchers with the sight of such birds as the Grey Hornbill, Grey Partridge, Green Pigeon,

great Indian hornbill and bul-bul. Many of the exhibits allow the birds to fly with no barriers, and all the

mining companies generally were storing the compressed fly ash in dams or ponds in the expectation of future value-added uses

to overcome every difficulty or trial with the red flag of the revolution flying high as we head

I learned to balance a beer on my head when
I was going to have to work totally naked
for the first time. Is it hard to imagine;?
after all you know about me now,
there was a time I felt uncomfortable with complete strangers
possibly catching a glance of my "privates?"

Thirty years ago, that seemed nasty to me.
What would you expect from any girl who did not
possess the knowledge of how much more hygienic it is to
shave that thing?
Is it really more hygienic,
or is it collusion with the patriarchal system?

I grew up seeing my grandmother pretend to get drunk
on two sips of champagne at Christmas,
and dance to salsa music with the glass on her head. Perfect!
If I was naked and balancing a drink on my head,
you'd probably be watching for the drink to fall,
rather than catch glimpses of my sacred triangle.

Jesus was pacing the Milky Way, bored as a snail in a bathtub. He was awaiting the Second Coming. But meantime there didn't seem to be anything else worth doing. Out of desperation, he threw an I Ching. The Ching advised him, for once, to stop persevering and go visiting:

mesodiplosis

mes-o-dip-lo'-sis from Gk. mesos, "middle" and diplosis,
"a doubling" mesophonia

Repetition of the same word or words in the middle of successive sentences.

Example
We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed;
we are perplexed, but not in despair;
Persecuted, but not forsaken;
cast down, but not destroyed. —2 Corinthians 4:8-9